Sick
by Geertrui
Summary: William had replied with, "The day you do your paperwork, Grell Sutcliff, will be the day I have off."  But as Grell sat in the empty office, he couldn't remember recently completing any paperwork. Lame everything is lame. Rewritten/edited. :I
1. Chapter 1

Well shitfuck. OK. So this is like... slightly re-written and shit. Yup. I promise, I haven't given up or anything. I had the third chapter just about done and pretty, saved in the FF doc uploader what does fanfic do? Fucking deletes it, and I hadn't saved it to my computer.

So after like... a week of sobbing and hating my life, I decided I'd re-think the entire story and yah. It's probably going to be a lot longer than I initially imagined and yeah, there will be eventual smut. So just go with me and I'm sorry.

I love concrit. Lash it out. Make me cry. Tell me how crap this is and what I can do to improve. I will love you forevs and evs.

* * *

><p>About forty five minutes to brush the tangled mess that was his hair.<br>About sixty to straighten, curl and crimp it so.  
>Around twenty to thirty minutes to meticulously apply the lampblack to his eyelids, the rouge cheeks and the red lipstick to his pouting mouth, despite whatever laws against the wearing of lipstick Queen Victoria had enforced.<br>Twenty minutes to dress.  
>Eight minutes to inspect and file any chips on his nails and don his black gloves.<br>Four minutes to retrieve his chainsaw from its rack by the front door, exit, and make a portal to the Death God Dispatch Society, English Branch, on the side of a brick wall in a back alleyway.  
>Six minutes and forty-three seconds to skip down the hallways to his superior's office, fling the door open and plonk himself down in the chair opposite that of one William T. Spears', crossing his legs and placing his chainsaw blade to the ground, leaning against the chair.<p>

But it only took him three and a half seconds to realise that he was the only reaper in the room.

Grell Sutcliff wasn't sure what shocked him more.

William had never, ever missed a day. Ever. Never, ever, ever. No way. It just wasn't possible. William T. Spears never took days off. They were understaffed and there was too much work to do. Grell had tried to convince him to have just one day where the dark haired reaper could spend at his home, not working.  
>William had replied with, "The day you do your paperwork, Grell Sutcliff, will be the day that I have off."<p>

But as Grell sat in the empty office, he couldn't remember recently completing any Soul Collection Reports.

There was also the fact that Grell had done all that work on his appearance for nothing. Two hours, forty eight minutes and forty six seconds…Wasted.

In retrospection, the red headed reaper probably would have carried out the same routine had he known William wouldn't be at work (a lady had to look her best at all times), but it was still annoying knowing that William wasn't there to stare lustfully at him and blush lightly as Grell batted his eye lashes less than an inch away from the stoic reaper's own. Despite whatever 'flirting' he did with his other colleagues (really, how is leaning against someone and running your hand over their thigh flirting?), William T. Spears was the main receiver of the effeminate man's affections.

Grell slid down in his chair a little, his long legs nearly reaching the oak desk in front of him, and pouted. What was he going to do? He spent three quarters of his day in William's office, pestering him. The other quarter was made up of him sitting in his own office cubical doodling things on his paperwork and chatting with Ronald Knox, Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries. He had nothing against the other men, but seeing Will was the best part of his day. If Will wasn't at work… He wasn't sure what to do. But he knew that he couldn't sit in his superior's office all day alone, so picking up his chainsaw and slinging it over his shoulder, he marched, quite irritated, off down the halls in the direction of his cubical.

William would be back at work tomorrow, and keeping that in mind, Grell prepared to tackle the pile of Death Forms that had been accumulating on his desk since January.

...

But he wasn't. Nor the next day. Nor the next. Nor the next. And Grell started to worry. William wouldn't miss a day of work, knowing that for every day he was away, it meant more overtime for him, let alone a week. Grell had thought that maybe Will was coming at night to pick up several dozen forms and taking them back to his home to complete there, so on the third day of his boss' absence, he sat in the large, empty office and waited.

He waited for several hours, and ended up falling asleep on the desk. Grell knew that William hadn't come during the time he was unconscious, because he would have scolded him and thwacked him on the head with his scythe for drooling a little on his desk.

William T. Spears had not been at work all week, and the entire English Branch knew.

Everything was in disarray, and very little work had been done. A couple of reapers had asked Grell if he knew anything about his absence, and it had been the topic of several of his and Ronald's conversations, but apart from that, no one seemed to care.

Except for him.

Grell knew that if Will was sick, he'd have sent a memo saying that he wouldn't be in a for a few days. If he had been assigned a mission, perhaps in France or America, he would've heard about it. If he had been attacked and killed… No. Grell wouldn't think about that. He couldn't. William T. Spears would never lose a battle. Grell had often wondered if the workaholic was as strong as Sebastian Michaelis, the demon butler.

Thinking back to how he had easily intercepted Sebastian as he went to kill the red head with his own death scythe, and how he had caught said death scythe with just his index and middle finger, and the balance and skill he displayed whilst he was performing in the Noah's Ark Circus (William hadn't heard the end of it after he had caved and told Grell where he had been. Grell had, of course, used various methods to pester Will enough to get the information)… The red head didn't doubt his superior's strength.

But he still worried.

And so on Friday night after his fingernails had finished drying, the bright red shining, Grell set off to William's small house. He and William had walked to the stoic reaper's home once (though if you asked William, he'd say Grell was stalking him) after they had both been stuck doing overtime. It just so happened that William lived only a few blocks away from Grell, and though Will had asked Grell politely to let him walk alone, the effeminate one had insisted they walk together under the light of the moon.

"It'll be so romantic, Will~ You and I, arm in arm, walking to my doorstep where we'll stand there for a moment staring into each other's eyes until you take the lead and lean in and-_ow_! What was that for, Will? Don't you know how rude it is to hit a lady?" With a thwack to the head, William had more or less silenced the romantic reaper's fantasy, but Grell had still latched onto his arm. To anyone who saw them, they'd think them lovers, and for once William had been glad Grell looked like a woman, as homosexuality was illegal.

It didn't really matter if they were caught, because the laws in the Death God Realm were different and there wasn't really anything the humans could do to them, but it'd still lead to questions being asked and time wasted and more stress than William would have found comfortable to deal with in the workplace.

Grell hurried along the London streets until he came to William's small home. Carefully walking up the front steps, he knocked on the door and waited a minute. He knocked again, and after receiving no reply for the second time he became impatient. Using the side of his fist, Grell banged on the door and called out, "Will? Will, it's Grell." He walked over to the window to the left of him and cupped his hands around his eyes, peering in. All he could see was black, and the faint outlines of some furniture where the curtain wasn't pulled across properly. Wait, was that movement?

Walking back up the steps to the door, he continued knocking and calling. "Will~ C'mon, I know you're here. You don't have any pets. William!"

Cursing, Grell hunched over the door knob and took a hair-pin from his coat pocket. Pulling it until the pin was at a ninety degree angle, he shoved the straight part of the metal into the lock and jiggled it around. After about a minute he heard a click, and felt the door shift forward. Grinning, Grell praised his handiwork and began to stand up straight, but was stopped as a shiver ran down his spine.

Looking up, he saw a man standing in the door way, clothes hanging off him, hair in his face, glasses askew and face pale with dark lines running under his eyes. The man's breathing was laboured, and it sounded like he needed a good cough to clear the mucus in his throat.

The first thought that ran through Grell's mind was that William had indeed been attacked, and faster than he could blow a kiss his chainsaw was summoned, the blade spinning and the engine roaring. Holding it up close to the raggedy man's face, Grell growled through gritted teeth, "What have you done to Will?" He saw fear flicker through the man's eyes, and heard a faint, croaky "Grell" over the noise of his death scythe.

Wait, eyes.

Grell frowned as he looked at the man again. Black hair. Black framed glasses. Polychromatic eyes. Green polychromatic eyes.

Humans didn't have those, and nor did demons.

The only being, whether it be supernatural or human, with bright, green, polychromatic eyes was the Death God.

Realisation struck him like lightning and Grell nearly dropped his chainsaw. This man hadn't attacked William. He _was_ William, and Grell felt the blood run from his face. How could he not recognise him? He'd been crushing, no, been in love with Will since he'd met him.

Turning off his chainsaw and dismissing it, Grell shuffled forwards through the door and helped William over to the lounge. The red head had noticed the way he was leaning against the frame of the doorway and he could tell the he was weak. Something had happened.

The only lighting in the room came from the moon, and Grell had to peer around to find anything. Everything smelt sour, a sick sour, and it took Grell a moment to place it. Vomit.

Grell swallowed, and tried to hold back his own retching. Even William, clean, pristine, perfect William T. Spears stank of it, and Grell guessed that he hadn't washed all week.

The younger one sat the other reaper down on the lounge and was able to make out more of his surroundings as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was an unlit fireplace to his left, with the kitchen directly in front of him. The lounge was to his right facing the fireplace, with a coffee table in front of it. About two meters behind the lounge were two doors, and Grell guessed that they lead to Will's bedroom and bathroom. Behind him, to the right of the front door were two bookshelves filled with different pieces of literature.

"Gre... Grell," William muttered. "What… What are you doing here? I ca… Can't have you… Seeing me like this. I'm s… S… Ss…" The reaper retched, and frantically ran his hands over the ground trying to find the steel bucket he had been using. He couldn't find it, but it didn't matter. He had already emptied his stomach, and Grell watched, unsure of what to do as Will covered his mouth and his oesophagus tried to push whatever it could out of him.

"Will…" Grell murmured, cautiously sitting down next to the dark haired reaper and attempted to rub his back, but as soon as he made contact Will flinched and swatted Grell's hand away. "N-no…! I-I told you, I'm sick. Go away, Grell. I'm fine. I ca… Can… Take c-care of myself."

"Mhmm. Do you have a kerosene lamp around here somewhere? Or some candles?" When William didn't answer, Grell sighed, standing up and shrugging out of his red coat, folding it and draping it over the back of the lounge. He started towards the kitchen, figuring that'd be the best place to start looking, as that was where he kept the candles in his own house.

Taking hold of the thick, lacy curtain that covered the window above the sink, Grell pulled it to the side to allow more light to shine in the room. But half of him wished he hadn't. Dishes covered in food remnants sat piled up in the sink and next to it, and Grell cringed at the smell. He'd have to fix that later. After several moments of searching, he found a long candle stick, ceramic candle holder and a box of half-empty matches.

William watched, slumped over on the lounge as Grell lit a match, holding it against the wick until it caught. He had always found the red head rather attractive (never would he admit it though, even if you told him you'd eradicate every demon from Hell itself) and the way the moonlight and the flame combined illuminated his slight frame... The way his vest wrapped tightly around his torso... The dark haired reaper couldn't keep his eyes off of his subordinate. He was beautiful.

William didn't care much for a woman's assets, nor really that of a man's. He had seen love and thought it destructive, rather than a happy, warm emotion. He had seen the fights it caused, the lives it ruined. When he would be assigned fieldwork, every cinematic record he viewed contained some form of love, whether it be between a man and a woman or a parent and a child. For all those happy moments and memories they shared, none of them could ever defeat the grief one felt when they lost the one thing they held dear.

He didn't want that. As cold and as hard as he seemed, it was all just a facade, an exterior that he had built up over the decades as to not let anyone in, so that he or they could never be hurt. When William thought about it, it seemed almost foolish of him, pathetic, to think he was afraid to feel the overwhelming sadness one did when they lost a loved one, but he didn't want to hurt anyone; he just wanted to do his duty as a Death God. Was that really too much to ask?

Let someone else find love. Let someone else find happiness and then have it torn violently from them.

William preferred being alone. He didn't have to go out of his way for anyone (apart from his incompetent subordinates), didn't have to care for anyone but himself. And he liked that. But for some unexplainable, absurd reason, that red head Grell Sutcliff had decided he wasn't going to let him be alone and it seemed wherever he went that man was there, too, trying to burn the hard shell away with all that red of his.

And for some reason William couldn't comprehend, he didn't mind it. At times he'd almost want to let down his guard, take off the harsh, work insistent mask he wore in front of everyone and let Grell see that he wasn't just a workaholic with a tendency to whack his co-workers upside the head with his death scythe.

On the nights that William had to stay back and complete the paperwork of certain workers from his branch (of course neither Sutcliff nor Knox were to blame...), Grell would often sit in his office with him, ignoring his boss' protests of course, just filing his nails and chatting.

Well, Grell had been the one talking, William blatantly ignoring the red obsessed reaper. But deep down, he did appreciate the other man staying back at work with him. Grell was the only one... Of course, then he went and snaked his arms around William's neck and purred seductively in his ear, Cheshire grin plastered on his porcelain face and any gratitude the stoic man felt crawled into a cold, dark corner and died.

He'd react on autopilot, elbowing his comrade in the stomach and yelling at him to get out, go home and read one of his romance novels. And then he'd sit in his office all by himself until some insane hour of the night, hot and flustered from the way Grell had been rubbing against him.

The thought of indulging the effeminate man had crossed his mind on several occasions - after all, he was still part human and had his needs - but he had scolded himself immediately at his improper thoughts. A lot like the ones he was starting to have now.

As quickly as his slightly more perverted musings had come, William shook his head trying to rid himself of the images that flashed through his mind of the effeminate reaper's milky skin. He was his colleague, for God's sake! William decided that it was his fever that was causing him to have such thoughts all of a sudden, and tried to look anywhere but at Grell as he sauntered, rolling his hips as he went (whether on purpose or the way of walking having become a habit, William wasn't sure), over to light the kerosene lamp he had spied on the coffee table in front of him.

"Have you been ill since Monday?" Grell asked quietly as he turned the flame up, the light dancing around the room and exposing more of the mess on the floor. He made a face as he noticed that William had missed the bucket on the floor next to him more than once. He would have some cleaning to do, he reasoned.

"Sunday night," William mumbled. "I tried to send notice that I wasn't going to be in for work, but..."

"It's OK," Grell murmured soothingly, but frowned. Sunday night. That was five days ago... From what he could tell, Will just had a simple fever. But simple fevers never lasted more than two days.

Quicker than lightning, panic set in, and Grell's right hand was on William's forehead in a flash. The stunned reaper didn't even have time to flinch at the sudden contact, let alone dodge. The dark haired reaper watched, unsure of how to act as the red head loomed over him and the colour drained from his face. He could feel his boss's temperature soaring even through his leather glove. Grell's questions came out jumbled, sentence after sentence of verbal vomit.

"W-Will! Where's your thermometer? I have to take your temperature. Oh! Have you seen the nurses at work? They'd have something to help! Five days! Five days with a fever! That's not normal, even for humans!. We shouldn't even be getting sick! My God, we have to get you to the doctors!"

"Grell..."

"Oh my God, oh my God, this could be serious. I should have come to check on you when you weren't at work on Monday but I talked to Ronald and he said you'd probably just snapped from all the stress that I cause, and that made me feel a little guilty so I didn't want to bother you..."

"Grell."

"And then Eric made some joke about you going home with that girl from the death scythe modification department - the one with the short, curly brown hair that stares at you all the time - and that got me kind of depressed because, y'know, she's a woman, and Alan said you're into women, so I ended up sitting at my desk crying and spoiling my makeup..."

"_Grell."_

"And I knew you'd be even angrier with me, assuming that you had snapped, if I went home to fix up my makeup, so I locked myself in your office for the rest of the evening, trying to do my paperwork... I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't have anyone seeing me without makeup, it'd be so degrading! Every time they saw me after, they'd all go," at which point Grell lowered the pitch in his voice to a gruff, masculine one, and William was somewhat shocked that the bubbly reaper could pull it off, "'Hey, that guy's really hideous without makeup,' and I'd never be able to go to work again! But anyway, I couldn't stop thinking about you and that _woman, _so I couldn't get any paperwork do-"

_"Sutcliff!"_

Grell stopped his rambling, eyes wide and lips pouting a little. A moment went by of complete silence, both men looking each other in the eye, before William sighed and relaxed his posture, leaning back on the lounge. "I'm fine, Grell... It's just a regular fever..." He muttered quietly, before Grell started up again.

"But you've had it so long! It's not-"

"Sutcliff! Just... Shut up." William glared at him, but not for long as he felt a wave of nausea hit him. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as the bile burned its way up his throat, and he clapped his hands to his mouth as he doubled over. Crouching down in front of him, Grell grabbed the half-full pail and held it up to William, but there was no need. Liquid trickled through his fingers and onto his pyjama pants, and initially the red head screwed up his face in disgust, before his features softened. William would need a bath.

Unable to keep the grin off his face as he thought of the prospect of seeing his boss naked (and thinking up excuses to ensure that he _would_), Grell grabbed a tea towel from the kitchen and gently pulled William's hands from his mouth, wiping his mouth, chin and hands. Glancing up at him, Grell saw the dark haired reaper watching him intently with... Remorse? Sadness? It was an expression that did not suit the division leader. But there was also something the younger man could not place... Gratitude?

Neither reaper had noticed that Grell had stopped his actions, and were staring at each other. Several moments passed before William coughed and looked over the red head's shoulder. What had just happened? He glanced quickly back at Grell and found that he, too, had looked somewhere else and even in the dim light, he could see the small blush appearing on his face.

"I... Erm... Y-you need to have a bath, Will..."

"No."

"When was the last time you washed? Saturday night?"

"Grell, no."

"It was, wasn't it?"

"Grell."

"Obviously, you can't wash yourself. If you could, you wouldn't smell this bad and-"

"Sutcliff, no. I'm fine. Another day of rest and I'll be better and I can wash myself. I'm a lot better than I was on Sunday night."  
>"- You need to change your clothes anyway because they're covered in vomit, so you may as well... Wait, what?" Grell stared at him, mouth agape. "Ah- wai- what? What do you mean you're better now than you were on Sunday? Why haven't you seen a doctor, it's obvious you don't just have a fever!" He exclaimed, suddenly standing up from his couched position and placing the pail on the ground. "Oh God, Will, I should have come over, if you were so sick..."<p>

William could tell that if he didn't shut the reaper up now, he'd start his ramblings again and he groaned as he felt a migraine birthing in his throbbing, vomit filled head. "I have a low immune system," he muttered angrily.  
>Grell's rant stopped then.<p>

"Wait, what?"

William groaned and pressed his eyelids together tightly. "My immune system is almost non-existent. It always has been. Plague destroyed what little bodily defense I had when I was alive. Even though I am a Death God now... There was nothing left for my body to work with as I became one. For me, an average head cold can last up to a week. That's why with this fever, I've..." The stoic reaper trailed off, looking anywhere but at Grell. His low immunity was his weakness, and he was admitting it to Grell, of all reapers. He knew that somehow, the effeminate reaper would use it against him.

"Oh..." Grell said quietly, eyes downcast, but he couldn't surpress his grin for long. "Does that mean I can take care of you?" William opened his eyes. What did he mean by...

"Wh-what, no, Grell! No, I'll... Be OK. Ack! Stop looking at me like that! Sutcliff, stop!" The red head had stood up and hooked his right arm under William's left armpit, forearm running across his back and hand resting on his right hip. In one swift movement, Grell had lifted him to his feet. "Sutcliff! Put me down this instant! What are you _doing_!"

Grell giggled. "You need a woman to take care of you, Will~ The place is a mess! I'll draw you a bath and wash you off, and then make you some soup. That should be easy to keep down."

"N-no, Grell, let me go. I don't need your help... You... You're..." William struggled to break free of Grell's tight grip, pushing against his chest and trying to weave his way out of his arms.

"Wi~ll, stop struggling. You're weak enough as it is, you shouldn't waste what energy you have left."

"I am not weak, Sutcliff." William growled, and to drive the point home, his legs gave way and he collapsed against the other reaper. He felt his mind clouding over in a smog similar to the one constantly covering London, and fought to keep his eyes open. He wouldn't let Grell...

Grell sighed at his boss' stubbornness and hefted him to his feet again, taking his left arm and draping it over his feminine shoulders. He half carried, half dragged the dark haired reaper around the lounge and in front of the two doors. "Which one's the bathroom?" William didn't answer, and for a moment Grell thought he had fallen unconscious, but saw him shake his head. The red reaper waited a moment, before sighing and trying the left door. Honestly, being uncooperative wasn't going to get him anywhere...

Stepping into the room it took him a moment for his eyes to adjust, but after a few seconds he could make out the bath's silhouette. He set William down gently against the wall and watched as his head rolled back and his eyes closed. Even in the darkness, he was so pale...

William listened as the sound of Grell's heels resonated around the tiled room, exiting, and clacking against the floor boards. Honestly, why couldn't he just wear men's shoes? They didn't sound half as annoying.  
>When Grell returned, William noted the stool and candle in his hands, watching him as he set them both down against the wall to his right. He didn't know how, but when he opened his eyes again, he was on the stool and Grell had his back to him, bending over. <em>What are you doing? Stop looking, stop! <em>William shut his eyes tightly, fatigue coming over him in strong waves. Why wouldn't Grell just leave?

William watched, half-conscious, as Grell turned the faucets on, the warm water falling from the pipes in a steady stream. Half of his mind was screaming at him to get out of the situation. The other was dead.  
>He watched as the red headed man turned around and scanned the wooden shelf next to the mirror, and having found what he was looking for, Grell grinned, pointed teeth illuminated slightly from the flickering light of the candle. Only slightly though. The white, shark-like fangs were bright enough as it was.<p>

Grell's fingers deftly removed the lid to whatever he was holding, tipping the thing over and pouring its contents into the swirling water. William's eyes lingered on the red head's long, nimble digits, and in some part of his sick, bile filled mind, he wanted more than anything to be whatever item the feminine man was holding.

Mentally scolding himself, the stoic reaper tried to focus on sitting upright on the stool when a wall of lavender hit him, assaulting his senses and wiping any course of action from his mind. The scent was too strong for his nose to handle. "Grell..." William groaned and swayed, resting his head on the wall behind him, closing his eyes and trying not to breathe in any of the potent aroma.

"Hmm?" Grell spared him a glance before replacing the lid on the container and sliding it back into its place on the shelf. The red head's heels click-clacked on the tiles as he walked over to the stoic reaper. "What's wrong?" William opened his eyes to find Grell's less than four inches away from his face, crouched in front of him and hands on his chest popping open the dozen buttons on his night shirt, his gloves finding a nice home somewhere on the floor. He hadn't been serious about wanting to feel Grell's fingers on him, he was delirious!

William spluttered, resulting in a coughing fit, and tried to push the effeminate man away from him. Grell sighed, somewhat irritatedly, and grabbed both of the other reaper's wrists in his left hand and held them above his head, pinned to the wall behind him. William was dumbfounded.

"Sut-Sut-Grell! What... Let-let go!" Again, Grell sighed, and continued to undo the buttons.

"Look, Will, I'm helping you. You need a bath. You're too sick to wash yourself, and if you don't wash it'll only make you sicker. Obviously you have no idea how to take care of yourself in such a situation, that's why you're still vomitting. Have you tried to lower your temperature? Do you even know _how _to?"

William ignored Grell. Because he was right. Not washing wasn't doing a thing for him. He had had a fever before, but he was at the Reaper Academy, and he had the infirmary take care of him. Even then, Grell had insisted to care for him, often arguing with the nurses as to who could do a better job. But it was no use now; there were no nurses, no one to save him from the chainsaw wielding Death God's actions. He'd just have to let him do as he pleased, but all that didn't stop him from giving one last feeble attempt.

"N-no... I can take care of myself," the stoic repaer defiantly mumbled, trying to free his wrists from Grell's steel-like grip. It was no use though, as Grell was right. He had wasted his energy in the struggle earlier, and all he could do was go slack against the cool wall.

Raising his delicate eyebrows and smiling, Grell released his wrists and leaned back a bit, giving William some space. "OK, then, you do it." He had trouble stifling a giggle as he watched his boss' fumbled attempts to undo the fourth button. Several moments went by, and William grew more and more uncomfortable and frustrated.

"Honestly!" he cried out and slumped on the stool, hands falling to his sides. Grell grinned victoriously, hands flying to the other man's chest. The rest of the buttons were undone in less than seven seconds, and before William knew it his night shirt was over his head and in a crumpled heap on the floor. He frowned distastefully, feeling the urge to straighten it out and hang it up.

"Alright, up." Grell said, grin still plastered on his face, taking William's arm and pulling him to his feet. He noted the faint blush that dusted the red head's cheeks, and cocked his head to the left, but didn't give it much thought as he felt the slender fingers at his crotch.

William jerked back, knocking the stool over and falling against the wall. Another wave of nausea hit him, and once again he felt the bile start to rise in his throat. "Will!" Grell was at his side in a flash, hand on his back and holding the hair out of his eyes and he coughed into the latrine. The red head couldn't stop his eyes wandering over his boss' back and arms, breath hitching.

His muscles weren't big and bulky - to Grell's surprise, the workaholic seemed rather lanky - but Grell could feel them move under his palm. He couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine as he moved his hand soothingly over the other man's back, careful not to catch his manicured nails on the smooth skin.

As William finished, Grell grabbed a hand towel, dabbing it over his boss' mouth, and pressed himself closer. He knew that he was playing with fire, but... He had on more than several occasions caught the dark haired reaper staring at him without the slightest hint of irritation or contempt. If William did think of him as a little bit more than a colleague, a little bit more than a friend... Grell grinned internally, but his good mood evaporated with the steam in the room as he felt the other tense up at his actions. William pulled back, resting his head on the wall, breath coming out in short, sharp huffs. Several moments passed before the red head deemed it safe to start on the man's pants again.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the other reaper's, Grell slowly moved his hands to the buttons.

"Gr... Grell... No... I-I can do that." The effeminate man arched an eyebrow at his superior's stubbornness.

"Will, we both know-"

"_Please, _Grell..." Only then did he get it, if the way William was looking anywhere but at him and the blush that covered his cheeks didn't give it away. He was embarrassed! Grell suppressed a laugh and instead smiled. Will was just so cute~!

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Will, it's not like it's nothing I haven't seen before." Grinning happily, he carefully pushed the first button back out of its hole. William scowled.

"_Of co__urse."_He said curtly, bluntly, and felt the air around him turn to ice. Grell looked up at him, fingers wavering above his crotch. The grin was no longer on his face.

"What do you mean by that?" His voice was low, menacing even, and immediately William regretted making that comment.

"... I... Erm... I..." the stoic reaper spluttered. Had Grell's teeth always been that sharp?

"As much as I hate to admit it, I'm male, too, William. That's what I meant when I said, 'it's nothing I haven't seen before'. I have no idea what you were implying, though." His face held no expression, his voice in monotone, and William knew he knew what he had meant.

As quickly as it had come, the freezing atmosphere vanished and William felt slightly relieved. Only then did he remember where Grell's hands were and the mood he had been in but a moment ago. He was glad the dramatic reaper had decided to ignore his comment.

Before he could protest any further, the buttons on his night pants weren't in their holes and William made a panicked noise as Grell started to pull his pants down, and grabbed at his crotch to try and hide himself. Grell glanced at him, frowning, and pulled the material down to his ankles with one, sharp tug. The workaholic blushed as deepa red as Grell's hair and looked over at the door, hands still covering his crotch. Perhaps with Grell tending to the bath, he could make a break for it... But William could hardly move his legs, let alone stand on his own.

Any thoughts of escaping were cut short a Grell turned off the taps, spinning on his delicate high heels and starting towards him. Oh, God, no. No. _No. _This wasn't really happening, was it? It couldn't be. Not to him. He was William T. Spears, head of the Death God Dispatch Society, English Branch! He couldn't have his subordinates trying to break their way into his home using a hair accesory, stripping the clothes from his person and trying to wash him!

With every step closer Grell took, William wished him away with his mind, but it did nothing to stop the red head's pace and with four steps it was all over. And he gave up. He let the red head hook his arms under his armpits, let him pull him to his feet and help him to the bath. Grell had seen him - hair a mess, stuttering, vomiting. Really, what was the point of trying to maintain any of his dignity and pride at this point?

He stood for a moment, watching the swirling water as it settled and glanced at Grell, who huffed and turned away from him. "Happy?"  
><em>No.<em>

Taking hold of the rim of the tub, William steadied himself as he swung a leg over into the lukewarm water, and immediately tried to pull it out. "It-it's freezing, Grell!"

"No, it's room temperature, perhaps even a little warmer. Your body temperature is too high, Will. Relaxing in a piping hot bath, as lovely as it sounds, what with the weather we're having, will not do a thing to lower your fever. You want to get better, right?" William groaned, rather uncharacteristically. He was right. Again.

Angrily muttering to himself, William lowered himself into the water, trying to ignore the cold seeping into his bones. A gravelly substance was layered over the bottom of the tub, which added to his discomfort. It took him a moment to place it, but Grell seemed to have acquired telepathy and spoke before him. "The bath salt is because, well, you smell really bad, Will. No offense. Though, obviously, it didn't all dissolve... That water is a bit too cool too, I think." He sighed. "But oh well. I'll be back in a moment..."

When Grell returned, William felt the panic set in again, but at the same time he coudln't keep his eyes off of the other reaper. Top three buttons undone and sleeves rolled up past his elbows, Grell walked in wearing nothing but his shirt, trousers and glasses. His long hair had been tied up in a messy pony-tail with his red and white striped ribbon at the nape of his neck, strands already falling out and dangling in front of his chest.

William watched over his shoulder as he picked up the stool from its spot on the ground and placed it behind his head, taking a seat. "Lean forward a bit, Will," he requested softly, and William felt a folded towel being placed between the back of his head and the ceramic. He also felt Grell's hand against his forehead, pushing his head back until it hit the material.

He noted the way Grell ran his hand through his hair, gliding over his right ear and to his glasses, removing them in a way much too sensual for the situation. Well, maybe not, had they been lovers, but... Wait, why was William thinking about that? He tried focusing on the wall in front of him, but in his peripheral vision he could see the way the red head folded them and placed them on the two-trayed stand next to the tub, and that also looked much too unchaste.

William still had his hands covering himself, and Grell pursed his lips together as he noticed this. He _was _doing this for William, to help him. He truly did care about his boss' welfare, but if getting to see him naked was part of his recovery... He wasn't just going to let the opportunity slip by. Besides, it could come in handy as blackmail whenever he wanted to skip out on doing overtime.

Reaching over, Grell picked up the sponge from the small stand. He soaked it in the water, slowly dragging it up William's chest and over his shoulders, wringing the water out as he did so. The division leader couldn't deny it felt good on his hot, clammy skin. Maybe if he pretended it wasn't Grell who was tending to him... Grell leaned forward, head next to William's as he brought the sponge over his toned arms, lifting them and washing underneath. This was so degrading! He was a grown man (or rather, a grown Death God. But he was still in his prime, retirement was very far off). He didn't need another grown 'man' washing him!

"I'm not going to hurt you, Will," Grell whispered. "Please... Trust me." There was hurt in his voice, but William had to strain to hear it. Before he could stop himself, William snorted and seethed from between thin lips, "Why should I? You never do anything that you are told, you constantly violate regulations and whenever I _do _allow you a lunch break unsupervised, you go off and associate yourself with _that demon._"

Grell didn't reply, instead placing his hand over William's eyes and wringing the sponge over his head. He ran his fingers through the dark strands, making sure not to leave any parts dry. Picking up the soap, he lathered his hands before replacing it on the stand and rubbing his fingers through the stoic reaper's hair. Before long, the silence grew unbelievably awkward, and William tried to think up something, anything, to break it.

"I... I'm sorry. Grell. I-"

"What for? It's all true. If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry. After all, I am the cause of virtually _all _of your stress lately, am I not?" William thought about it for a bit. It _was_true; Grell's carefree behaviour often lead to other dispatch officers believing they could get away with just about anything, which lead to seldom work getting done.

But none of the workplace stress Grell caused could compare to the way he burdened the stoic reaper when he was in his home, alone; his perfume sending his brain to a far away place and the patterns his fingers had traced over his arm earlier that day, burning him, scaring him. The only thing the division leader could do to was sit in front of the fire intoxicated on memories of the red reaper, the flames dancing before him looking much too sultry and much too _familiar. _If anything, Grell affected him more in that way than his incompetence ever could.

"No, that's not true. More demons have been creating contracts with humans, all over the United Kingdom and Europe. Since Europe is so big, a lot of our officers have been sent over to aid in the situation. Despite being contracted, the demons are still sneaking souls behind their master's backs. We've been incredibly short on officers, and I've been having to complete their paperwork. They need their time and energy to catch and destroy the demons, not complete paperwork."

"But that's not fair on you!" Grell cried, pulling William's hair a little as he did so. "You already do enough for this branch, why can't the higher ups have someone else do it? Why can't they send officers from America or Africa or Australia?"

"Because, Sutcliff, who else in our division is going to do it? Certainly not you or Knox. Mr Humphries and Slingby have been helping - Slingby only because Alan is forcing him in some lewd way - but apart from a couple of other reapers, that's it. You can't tell me you haven't noticed the absences, or are your thoughts always on that _filth_?_" _William sat up abruptly and Grell pulled his sud covered hands back.

Turning slightly, the dark haired reaper cast a cold glare at the other over his shoulder (at least, he hoped he was glaring at the man. He couldn't actually see anything...). "The American, African and Australian branches have very little experience with demons. The vile creatures tend to prefer souls that are filled with spite and evil, not purity. A lot of the aristocrats and even royalty tend to become corrupted and want revenge, so they contact a demon. In which continent is there the most royalty and aristocracy?"

"... Europe." Grell mumbled.

"Exactly. The other divisions encounter demons once every year, whereas we in the European division encounter one every _month._ We have more experience, so we've been sent to help."

William laid back down again after finishing his rant. He had no idea how he'd the energy to talk that much, and felt his eyes growing unbearably heavy. He almost drifted to sleep, Grell's fingers returning to his head and rubbing soothing circles on his scalp. Almost. But the damned red head had to start talking again.

"I'm sorry, Will, I really am, for not doing my paperwork... It's just... If I do my work, then I won't have any overtime, and nor will you, and then I'd have to go home and not be able to spend time with y- I mean! Um! Ahh, that is... I'd have to go home and then who would I ask which colour to paint my nails? It's a very difficult question, Will, especially when you want your nails to look good for the one you love~"

William didn't miss the slip up, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise and his heart skipping a beat. Wait, no it didn't. No. Of course it didn't. As if he'd get excited at the prospect of Grell Sutcliff wanting to spend time with him. Honestly.

"Mm, it's fine, Grell. If it wasn't me, it'd be someone else you'd be pestering, and I doubt that there is a Death God in this realm that can handle you and your antics."

Seeing past the insult, Grell cried, "Really, William? Re~a~lly? I don't annoy you? Oh, Will!" The flamboyant man's arms wound around the other's neck, hands brushing over his abdomen, chin resting on his shoulder away from the suds.

"Ack! Sut-Sutcliff! Get off me this _instant_!" William wriggled in the embrace, trying to dislodge the man without the use of his hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Will~ But after hearing that you've become _fond _of me... I just couldn't help myself~! I was overwhelmed with hap~pi~ness! Ahh~" William huffed. He never said anything about being fond of the reaper. He was exaggerating. Of course. Because he couldn't get a word in to tell the red head so as he was in his own little world, 'Ahh~n'ing and 'Ooh'ing and giggling girlishly.

"Sutcliff_. _Sut_cliff_. Would you stop acting so over the top and wash the soap from my hair? It's falling into my eyes and I can't wipe it away as my hands are... Occupied."

"Hehe, of course, Willy dear~" William sighed and glared at the wall, hoping it would turn into some sort of black hole and suck him up. He would let Grell carry on like this for a while, let him have his fun, then he'd kick him out faster than he could mutter, "Honestly." But he couldn't stay irritated with the man for long as the cool water cascaded down his face, and he felt his temperature lowering instantly.

He listened as Grell hummed a happily little tune, the name he couldn't place but he was sure he'd heard children singing it at some point when he was doing fieldwork, and felt the sponge's rough surface over his abdomen. A little alarm went off in his head, but he decided to ignore it. After all, Grell wasn't actually a woman, so it wasn't as if it was indecent exposure. Wait. That brought back that insult he had thrown at him earlier. Regret pooled in the pit of his stomach.

"Please forgive me for what I said to you earlier, Grell. I was... Snappy, I didn't know what I was saying."

"Hmm?"

"When I accused you of having... Experience with a man's penis. I didn't mean it. I just..."

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's not like I haven't heard it before. I just didn't expect to hear it from _you. _Do I really come off as that slutty, William? So I like to flirt a little, that doesn't mean I shag anything that flirts back! Besides, most men think me a woman, which, y'know, I am, but still. I think it'd be quite a shock for them when we got back to their apartment and they found out my true gender. Ha! But that'd never happen. There's only one man I'd give myself to, but I doubt he reciprocates my feelings. _Ohh, _the drama of it!" Grell slapped the back of his hand across his forehead and swooned. William thought over his words.

"You mean to say, you're a virgin?" He couldn't help the surprise that lingered in his voice.

"Well, more or less... There was the incident with Angelina, my beloved Madame Red... But she really only used me for her own gain. She was lonely. She didn't love me like I wanted to be loved. She didn't love me like a man would. We made love several times, but she initiated it. After a murder, she'd be in tears, and I'd be there to comfort her... In more ways than one, it seems.

"Those times, I was with a woman, so it doesn't count. I'd never give myself to just anyone, Will. I'm a lady after all, I need romancing and wooing and comfort and _trust._The idea of being with one person, preferably another virgin like myself, for the rest of my life seems appealing to me. It shows that there couldn't possibly be any traces of lust still left over from the relationship they were in previously. Plus, I don't want someone easy or anything."

The fact that Grell had been with a woman who didn't really care about him made William's blood boil, but he tried to calm himself in the cooling water. "So I take it you'd never be with Sebastian, then? Seeing as he left his mark on that nun."

"Ahh, Sebby~ He's so... Ahhhhh~n! But he'd never be able to make me happy. He belongs with that stupid brat. The pair of them would be happy, being all... All _them _like_. _Sebastian doesn't have the potential to be romantic, I don't think. As amazing as he is, he's just something for me to fawn over, and I absolutely _love _it when you get jealous, Will~"

"I-I don't get jealous! I simply don't want to fraternizing with him! It's bad for the Death God name, and if something were to happen to you, I'd, of course, have to come to save you and waste precious time. That's all."

"Heh, of course, just like my own prince, coming to my rescue~ Ahh~ But anyway, you should finish washing yourself. I'll prepare you some warm clothes and get started on the soup. You seemed so set on bathing yourself before, it should be no problem. Unless, now you want my assistance...?" The flamboyant reaper's breath ghosted over William's ear, and he struggled to contain a shiver. His fingers were at his collarbone, tracing patterns in the dips above them. He shrugged him off and muttered a, "Bugger off, Sutcliff," whilst doing so.

Grell skipped out, lighting a few candles from the lamp on the coffee table and started rummaging around in William's bedroom for another set of night clothes. The dark haired reaper could hear him from the bathroom and sighed, hoping that his personal quaters were still partially intact.


	2. Chapter 2

The red reaper returned half an hour later with a new set of clothes, and by that time William was positive that the now-freezing water had lowered his body temperature to below two degrees celsius. Holding out a big, fluffy towel, Grell screwed his eyes shut and turned his head so far it was almost facing the wall behind him (all to give Will some privacy) before quickly picking up the reaper's glasses and handing them out to him. The stoic reaper happily accepted them, drying himself off and pulling the pants on. Grell allowed him to use his shoulder for support, and helped him do the buttons up. Already William noticed that the nausea wasn't affecting him that badly and he could walk into his room without vomiting.

He was delighted that Grell had lit the fire and relished in the heat, though the effeminate man quickly shuffled him along into his room, out of the warmth. Several candles sat around the perimeter of the room, one on each of the bedside tables on each side of the bed and two on his dresser. He noted that Grell had stripped the bed and remade it with a fresh set of sheets and the duvet was in a heap on the chair at his desk. It was April, spring time, and there was no way the redhead was allowing him to curl up in the bulky thing just to send his temperature soaring again, despite the pouring rain outside and the chill in the air.

Taking the top of the sheet and light blanket in his fists, Grell pulled them back and gestured for William to get in. The stoic man eyed him skeptically before walking over and sliding onto the firm mattress. The redhead clasped his hands together at his abdoment, and all but flew to the other reaper's side, fluffing up his pillow and positioning him so that he was half sitting up, half lieing down.

"I-Is this really necessary?"

"Of course it is. You can't get better unless you're comfortable. You've been living in your own filth the past week, so it's no wonder your health hasn't improved. I'll go grab a cool wash cloth for your head." William watched as the other man skipped out of the room and sighed, taking his spectacles off, folding them and placing them gently on the nightstand. If Grell wasn't going to let him do anything but eat and sleep, there was no need for them. No doubt Grell would want to spoon-feed him anyway. Speak of the devil...

Prancing in with a dish of water and the hand towel he had used to support his head in the bath earlier, the redhead knelt next to the bed and draped the damp material over William's forehead. The stoic reaper shut his eyes and felt several water droplets running over his eyelids. He didn't know how long Grell had stayed beside him, but eventually he heard him pad out of the room. Grell had probably thought he'd fallen asleep, and to William that really didn't sound like a bad idea.

Letting his still rigid from Grell's touch muscles relax, the dark haired reaper allowed his mind to cloud over and body to go slack and slumber to embrace him.

...

Grell could hardly believe his luck.

First, he'd had the opportunity to see the pale skin of his boss' back, always hidden from his eyes by that black blazer he wore, and now he was going to cook him dinner and nurse him back to health~ Balling his hands into fists and holding them to his mouth, Grell wiggled his hips and giggled almost maniacally. He pranced into the kitchen, narrowly missing the dinner table, twirling gracefully in his euphoria, and began searching through the cupboards for a soup pot.

Once he found one, he filled it to around halfway with water and placed it on the stove he had prepared earlier. Any meat that William had bought would've putrefied, so Grell searched the pantry for some sort of chicken bouillon powder and vegetables. Whilst he did so, he thought over the conversation he and William had had in the bathroom.

Grell could not believe he had screwed up so badly, almost revealing the way he felt for his boss. Of course, if you asked anyone they'd say Grell's affections were so obvious a blind man could see them, but they only counted his flirtations as 'love'. No, they didn't see the way his eyes lit up whenever he caught a glimpse of his stoic colleague. They didn't see the way the redhead would watch him longingly whilst he scolded new recruits, glaring hatefully at them for infuriating him and having his attention.

Grell didn't doubt that his other colleagues probably thought he was out shagging some poor bloke rather than cutting up soggy carrots and trying not to wreck his eye-makeup peeling and dicing onions for their sick superior. They didn't know he wanted more than to just 'fool around' with William. But Grell didn't care about what they thought. He only cared for what William thought of him, and now that he had cleared up everything regarding his flirtatiousness and sex life...

Taking the chicken bouillon and sprinkling it over the water, Grell added the chopped vegetables and some salt, and went off in search of some parsley and celery. Both greens were withering and drooping when he found them in a cupboard, but that didn't matter, chopping them up hastily and adding them to the mixture. The redhead took a large wooden spoon from one of the draws and stirred the pot several times, scooping up some of the liquid and sipping it carefully. Another hour or two and it would be ready. That left time kill.

The flamboyant man turned and leaned against the counter top, surveying the room. Several small piles of vomit were situated in front of the couch, and Grell groaned with irritation as he remembered the cleaning he had to do. The washing, the dishes, the floor... Oh, if only Sebas-chan was here to help him~ He'd have everything done in less than five minutes and that would leave enough time for the handsome butler to sweep him off his feet and- No. No, that wouldn't happen, Grell reasoned, for if William had ever found out Sebastian had cleaned up his mess, he'd be mortified for all eternity and Grell was rather pleased with the current location of his head. Unless of course, it was to be between a certain reaper's legs...

Oh, fantasising wasn't getting him anywhere. Sighing, Grell pushed himself away from the counter and started towards the bathroom. He had noticed a smaller room coming off of it, and guessed that it was the laundry room. He hadn't been able to get much of a look as there was only one candle and its light didn't stretch that far.

Grell scooped up William's discarded nightwear from the floor and sidestepped the small puddle of water that had dripped from the reaper's toned body. He had actually seen his superior's body! Having trouble walking without spasming at the thought of William, he continued on into the laundry, the cold floor chilling his bare feet. Wait, what if Will wasn't warm enough? Being too warm was dangerous for him, but not being warm enough would be uncomfortable...

Dumping the clothes into the large steel basin, the redhead rushed into William's bedroom door, gingerly pushing it open and peeking around the side. William was just how Grell had left him, albeit a little further down in the bed, leaving his neck at an awkward angle. The damp hand towel had also slid down a little, partially covering his left eye, and Grell smiled, slipping into the room and avoiding treading on any creaky floorboards. He picked up the heavy duvet from where he had left it on the desk, and moving to the side as to not disturb the chair, which would in turn disturb William, he pulled it up and off in one swift motion.

Grell grinned victoriously, but only for a second as a heavy thud cut through the silence. He glanced up nervously, eyes locking on William as the man grunted and shifted in his sleep. A frown was evident on his features, but they quickly relaxed, and the redhead sighed in relief. Speedily placing the thick cover at the foot of the bed, he pulled it so it covered up to the stoic reaper's mid-thighs. _That way he'll be able to reach it if he gets too cold_, Grell reasoned.

Repositioning the unconscious man and moistening and reapplying the hand towel, Grell watched his colleague for a moment before turning on his heel and heading for the door, when something hard collided with his foot. A few pieces of paper were scattered on the floor surrounding what seemed to be in the gloom, a ledger.

Grell narrowed his eyes at the piece of paper, making out a few scribbled words and two small, fat people. He looked at it for a few moments longer before he noticed hearts lining the page and some initials and more of the same fat people and words and another little person wearing a suit that the illustrator had messily coloured in with a long death scythe sticking out of his head and before Grell knew it his eyes had widened marginally and a blush had successfully painted his cheeks brilliant shade of red.

Grell stooped, taking the paper between his fingers and bringing in front of his face for a closer inspection, all the while feeling something close to dread nestle in his stomach. As he'd suspected, it was one of his doodles of himself with William, as well as a Sebastian with a limb trimmer firmly planted in his skull. _Will x Grell_ with little hearts and stars around it was written all over the page, and as the redhead flipped it over he nearly felt sick as he realised it was some of his paperwork, and that letters in the words had been crossed out to make, with the remaining letters, his and his boss' names.

Grell swallowed. How had this gotten onto William's floor? What if he had seen it? The redhead's frantic mind had quickly come up with a theory, that it had fallen out of his pocket whilst he was bustling around the room earlier, but it was quickly forgotten as he noted the date, which was much too far back in the year.

He let his head hang forward, hoping that if William had seen the vandalized paper he'd think nothing of it, expect it was just 'Grell being Grell', when his eyes landed on the object that had caused his paranoia as to whether or not the dark haired man knew of his true feelings. He crouched, realising it was the ledger, or rather the book, that had fallen open, face down. A few more pieces of paper had half fallen out, the edges sticking out from under the hard cover.

Stuffing the scribbled on paperwork into his pocket, Grell took the book in his hands and pushed the loose papers back into it. _It's probably just Wi__ll's work diary_. He stood up, setting the book back on the desk and made a start to walk out of the room. Another smaller, ripped piece of browning paper was on the floor, and the redhead frowned, stooping again, and picked it up. Almost illegible cursive scrawl slanted across the palm-sized paper and it took him a moment to decipher it.

_What's the answer to seventeen?_

Grell eyed the diary. There was no way this had fallen out of his pocket. He wouldn't even have believed it his had it not been for the single heart and deformed smiley after the written question. Question. Questions were in tests. Tests were... Allowing a strange noise to escape his throat, the redhead grabbed the diary from the desk and strode from the room, taking a seat on the lounge in front of the fire and began to flick through the pages. The note was from when he and William were at the Academy, and he had no doubt passed it to the stoic reaper during one of their written tests.

Yellow-green eyes narrowed. Not a single entry was out of the ordinary, things such as 'recruit tour' and 'fieldwork' neatly printed underneath the bold dates, and the only loose pages he came across were transfer related, as well as several forms regarding death scythes. Grell huffed, licking his index finger and flicking through the pages furiously. Nothing. Not one thing regarding him. Holding his hand to his forehead, the reaper's brow furrowed, concerned as to whether or not he had caught William's fever and had just imagined the note. But the note was still there, in his hand...

Annoyed, Grell lobbed the book onto the coffee table, crossing his legs and pouting. None of it made any sense! He went to stand up, his irritated gaze still fixated on the diary when he noticed a crinkled corner sticking out from the bottom of it. None of the loose sheets had been crumpled - every single one was flat without a crease, apart from the larger papers that needed to be folded.

Snatching the diary back up, the redhead flicked to the last page and let his mouth fall open. Over two-dozen sheets of paper fit snug between the leather sleeve cover of the book and the hard cardboard of the back cover, as well as several smaller, ripped bits of paper. Unless disturbed, there was no way the papers could be seen if they weren't searched for, and Grell grinned mischievously at his find.

William was hiding something.

Any other person would have just thought the hidden papers spare copies of workplace regulations, but after having raided the reaper's office in boredom several days before, he knew that was not the case. (He had discovered that William had a special folder just to keep copies of regulation lists and warning slips if those regulations were defied in.)

Sliding his fingers under the leather cover, Grell pressed the tips firmly to the papers and slowly pulled them out, as to not leave any trace of his presence. He set them on his lap with the book to his side, pulling the kerosene lamp closer to him so that he could make out the words on the papers. For a moment, Grell felt like flinging them into the fire in irritation when he realized it was all just paperwork, but as he turned them over he discovered that that was not the case.

On the back of each page, over a dozen smaller versions of himself with a handsome man wearing glasses and a suit were drawn - some in extravagant renaissance outfits and others in wedding attire. Over ten variations of the name William were written in different languages down the side of one page, as well as his own full name in English, with his surname changed to Spears. He couldn't help but grin, and in some part of the back of his mind, he recognized the pages, though he paid it little heed and continued flicking through.

Grell started on the six or seventh page in the small stack. He couldn't help but giggle as he examined the next illustration, which was similar to the sheet's he had found on the floor. Another Sebastian was drawn, albeit a little fatter, with the shears of William's death scythe pointed at his neck. The expression on the illustrated Sebastain's face was a mix of fear and confusion, directed at (despite being a butler to die for, Grell was absolutely hopeless at drawing correct proportion, angles and direction, so the only way he knew what was actually happening in the picture was because he had drawn it) the man at the other end of the scythe, who was shielding with one arm around a very unrealistically feminine redhead.

Under the image read, 'What should have happened' in cursive black ink, and a pang struck Grell's heart as he realised it was his own version of what had happened on the night of Madame Red's death. The regret of what he had done quickly faded into embarrassment, however, when he saw the back of the next uncompleted soul collection review.

Taking up over half of the page was a sketch of himself with lips parted, eyelids half closed and faint blush upon his cheeks. Another blushing man with a parted mouth and nearly closed eyes was angled (badly) above the ink version of himself, and Grell swallowed and averted his eyes. He recognized this, oh, yes. A month ago. He didn't even have to look at the date on the other side of the sheet to know.

It was after William had scolded him for trying to flirt with the higher ups, embarrassing the dark haired reaper to an endless degree, and in the privacy of his office had grabbed the redhead's shoulders and violently pushed him into one of the chairs. William had quickly closed the gap between them, his face less than five inches away from his red colleague's, breath mingling with said red colleague as he told him off for interrupting an important meeting and then continuing to pester one of the heads from the Academy.

William had noticed their proximity first and quickly pulled away. Grell was too dazed by his boss' sudden dominative attitude to notice the closeness or the fact that Will may have been over-reacting.

But it was after Grell had calmed a little, gotten his thoughts into place and sat at his desk that the vision of what could have happened came to mind, and with quill in hand and unimportant paperwork in front of him he couldn't help but fantasise, as well as sigh and internally curse himself for not taking advantage of the situation.

Several hours later he had snuck out of work early, hearing that William had left to investigate something in the human world. Grell had completely forgotten about his drawing and the next day questioned its where-abouts, but that was the only attention he gave it and assumed one of the cleaners had thrown it away. The thought that he'd find it here... Wait, why was it here? Why did William have a collection of his doodles? Grell paled slightly. Was William stalking him? Actually, he wouldn't object to that...

A small creak, which he ignored, was all the warning Grell was given before William was looming over him. His eyes darted from the pile of papers in his superior, before the fact that he had been caught going through William's belongings sunk in. They stood there in silence for several moments.

"Um..."

"I knew I wouldn't be able to trust you in my home."

Even though William was standing behind him in his shadow, Grell could make out the frown on his face and the anger in his eyes. As well as... Betrayal?  
>"Get out."<p>

"Wh... What?"

"Get out, Sutcliff. Had I known that these were your intentions, I'd've never let you in to begin with."  
><em><br>__He thinks I only wanted to snoop around his home, that I didn't actually care..._"No, no, William, it isn't like that! I really do want to help you. I just found this and... And... I won't tell anyone about it, I promise!"

"I couldn't care less who you tell. Those papers are merely part of a collection I've been keeping of your work efforts. You should keep in mind that if you step out of line, I can show this to the head of the Association and have you demoted to a status so low, you'd have less rights than a janitor." Grell swallowed. William didn't look or sound as though he was lying.

"You should be grateful that I didn't turn you in when you decided to pull that Jack the Ripper stunt. Ugh..." He slumped forwards a little, hands gripping the top of the lounge. "I don't... I don't get it. Every time you gain my trust, you have to go and do something something to counteract whatever you've done that made me think that perhaps... Ughh... Why? Do you enjoy messing with my head? Do you find it entertaining?"

"N-No, Will, I don't... I didn't snoop, I swear! I kept... Finding... Bits of things, that I had drawn," he blushed, confirming to William that they were his illustrations, "and... It didn't make sense... That book..." Grell glanced up nervously at William. He appeared to have relaxed a little and had taken to narrowing his eyes at him rather than glaring.

"Perhaps, I shouldn't have left that book in such an obvious place." He huffed. "No matter."

Silence fell over the two, and the dark haired reaper watched as Grell tried to put the drawings back into the diary. He couldn't help but give a small smile as the redhead stuck his tongue out in concentration, focusing intently on trying to make the papers as neat as possible in their home. Again, Grell blushed, feeling William's eyes on him. "I... I take it you're feeling better, then?"

"Better enough to stand without feeling nauseous. Though, my head is pounding a little." The redhead giggled in reply.

"Well then, we need to get you back to bed. Maybe if I join you your head will stop bothering you. I do know of a couple of ways to cure headaches without the aid of drugs~ Although they are a little vigorous and draining, the pleasurable rewards are worrf- mmph, Wirr~r!" A hand clamped firmly over the effeminate man's mouth effectively cutting him off, and William's smile grew slightly as Grell looked up at him from under his bangs, frowning. It was rather cute.

"That's quite enough, Sutcliff," he said softly, listening to Grell's muffled reply. Quick as a flash Grell's hand shot out and took the wrist connected to the hand covering his mouth in a vice-like hold.

William spluttered as the redhead's warm tongue poked past his lips and lapped at his palm, the slick muscle weaving in-between the digits. The dark haired reaper stared, entranced, as Grell's tongue took his index and middle fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, bottom teeth grazing over the pads on the underside of his fingers. Grell moaned, the vibrations tingling in William's fingers, and took more of the intruding extremities into his mouth until his lips brushed over his knuckles on the back of his hand.

William's breath hitched in his throat and a faint blush peppered his face. He felt his head go light, but continued to watch as Grell looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. The redhead turned completely, kneeling on the lounge, facing the back of it as well as William.

The dark haired reaper coughed and stared at the hearth as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. As though it was more interesting than the redhead and his sinful tongue. More interesting than the redhead and his tight lips, hot mouth- Yes. The fire was a lot more interesting than Grell Sutcliff and the things he was doing to his fingers.

"S-Sutcliff… What are…" The grip tightened and his wrist was pulled further forward, Grell's tongue lazily tracing over his veins, lingering on his pulse. The redhead pushed the sleave of his night shirt up his forearm, bunching it at his elbow. William shivered as the tip of the muscle darted across the underside of his arm, sharp teeth nipping him every so often, Grell's cool hand following his tongue and rubbing his thumb in a circular motion.

Green-gold eyes flickered up to William, trying to gauge his reaction, studying his features. His eyes were shut tightly; his lips parted a fraction, laboured, deep breath escaping them. He couldn't tell if it was from his ministrations or his fever. In the dim, Grell could make out a faint blush on his cheeks and slowly, ever so slowly, he shifted so that he was crouching on the lounge.

God, what the Hell was he doing? William trusted him, didn't he? The idea of trying to… Well, it'd get him an insufferable amount of paperwork, but what worried him was that he'd scare his boss away and- wait, was that his hand in his hair?

A thousand thoughts rushed through Grell's head at the exact same time and when combined with William's fingers gently massaging his scalp he was left in a daze. For a moment the redhead thought that the older reaper was responding to his touching, but he reasoned that no, that couldn't be the case, and prepared himself for the sharp tug on his hair, the punch to his face and the kick to his gut that would send him from the warm room to the cold drizzle outside.

It never came, and instead, he found a warm palm at his cheek and fingers timidly brushing over the skin just in front of his ear. Slowly, cautiously, Grell released his grip on William's wrist completely and gave his forearm one last lick. He moved up a little on his legs and drug his nose across his boss' mid-torso, savouring the unique combination of William's scent mixed with the lavender. It was nearly intoxicating.

Grell let his hands rest on his superior's hips, dipping under the shirt's thin material and running his fingers over the cold skin. "William…" He shivered as William's fingers trailed over his ear and to the back of his neck, under his now incredibly loose ponytail. Cool fingers slipped between blouse and skin and rubbed it lightly as Grell raised mouth open and running over the brunette's chest, lips catching on the material, to his neck. The way his superior's fingers were shifting the skin just below the top of his spine was driving him crazy, reckless.

The redhead's soft tongue glided over William's thumping pulse, which accelerated with every breath that ghosted over it, to the underside of his jaw. William's nerves were on edge and it took all his will power not to jitter and tremble. Full lips brushed over his cheekbone and back down, stopping less than a hair's breadth away from his own flushed mouth.

William resisted the urge to dart his tongue out and swipe at Grell's lower lip which was pressing just slightly to the corner of his mouth. Tension so thick it could be cut like butter hung in the air as each waited for the other to move.

Grell could feel his mind yelling at him to keep going. How long had he waited, _hoped _for the day when William didn't recoil from his playful advances to come? How many times had he fantasised that it was his superior's hands caressing his hair and body rather than his own? All Grell had to do was inch his mouth a little to the left and thin lips would be enveloped in his own. Would the stoic reaper even try to resist?

William just stood there as the moments passed. Grell wasn't moving, and nor was he. His body was slowly freezing up.

There was only one time that he could recall where he felt so panicked and scared, and that was when the soul of Thomas Wallis had entered him and attempted to consume him. But he had been saved, and oh God did he wish he could be saved now, too. Wished that he was in some crazy, realistic dream produced by his fever, although he knew that this was this was so very real. He really didn't know what to do.

He wasn't just looking over a soul collection report and was able look up a word in his dictionary if he perchance couldn't remember he correct spelling. There was no answer to be found. There was no protocol, no rules to abide to. There was just Grell Sutcliff, _begging _to be kissed.

But William just couldn't do it. Besides the unprofessionalism of it, he'd have relented and accepted the fact that, well, yes, maybe he did harbour feelings for Grell. He would allow himself to be swept away by his affection and drown from his broken heart, if something were to happen to the effeminate redhead.

Every day that Alan Humphries lived was another day that Alan Humphries died, and another day that Eric Slingby died with him. And William would be a liar if he said that he'd sacrifice a small part of his eternal life with Grell to have him attacked by a stray soul as he checked his reflection out on a collection round and die on him at the hands of the Thorns of Death, to spend the rest of his days suffering.

Yes, he was a coward. Yes, he had seen a man go wild and plead and beg and eventually kill himself as his beloved wife died. That was not him. He was cold and distant with absolutely no emotion other than irritation. His love was only for protocol. It certainly wasn't for Grell Sutcliff.

And so that was why took a step backwards and winced internally as the warm lips on his face were pulled off soundlesslyand the small saliva coated area was left victim to the cool air to attack.

William would not even allow himself to look at the other reaper. It was like the hurt form his rejection was radiating from Grell in waves, crashing into William and making his legs feel weak. God, it was hurting him. His heart was aching and his throat felt as though there was a thick, slime covered snake slithering up and into his mouth, filling it. He wanted to unhinge his jaw and stretch his mouth open wide, but William knew that if he did that his sigh would most definitely escape.

So he kept his head turned to the right, staring into the dark kitchenette, and commented quietly through barely parted lips, "I think the soup might be ready."


End file.
